Baby it's Friggin' Cold Outside

I caught a snowman trying to get into my house, so he could warm his snow-ass up.

Submitted:Feb 9, 2013
Reads: 390
Comments: 0
Likes: 1

It's so
friggin' cold outside, I can't believe it.

I caught a
snowman trying to get into my house, so he could warm his
snow-ass up. He must
have already frozen his snow-balls off, because I didn't see
them anywhere.

I did, however,
spot a drunk-a drunk who had pissed in his pants. Andwhy? Clearly … he did
it for the body heat! 98.6 degrees of forced hot water
whiz-warmth, baby!

I only hope he
was close to home when he let his golden river run. My guess is,
once that wonderful liquid comfort changes over to britches full
of yellow snow, the downside to the pee-for-heat plan
becomes awfully apparent.

At least
frostbite
doesn't leave teeth marks.

I don't know
about the whole pants-pissing thing, but I have to
admit, the cold has had me thinking some thoughts I wouldn't
usually be thinking. Like, "I bet that fat girl's nice and toasty
inside; if I let her sit on my face, I can probably burrow in
somewhere."

Tell the truth,
you were thinking it too-even the ladies. Sounds coozey,
doesn't it? A nice warm womb, to snatch a snuggle?

Make sure you
don't suffocate up there; I recommend using a snorkel. Just point
it out the way you came.

And it's so
friggin' cold outside, I've witnessed the surprise return of
something from the olden days, not seen in these parts for
years-the furry muff. Not the kind you stuff your hands
in to keep'em warm-I'm talking about the love-land
between lady legs kind.

Okay, they're
actually the same kind.

That's right,
the wintertime girls around here have been so cold, they're all
letting their pubic hair grow back. I know-you never thought
you'd see the day. Me neither-but the day is here. All across the
frozen tundra, idle razors are rusting, and fires kindled from
the all the surplus bikini wax are heating homes.

But if the
return of the woolly bully is an evil (and I'm not
saying it is)-it's a necessary one, lest all the hot and juicy
women we love to love, become nearly impenetrable frigidbitches. I say nearly
impenetrable because … where there's a will, there's a way. And
there's always a will …

I know, I know
… cry you a river. The weather's a little on the cold side-so
turn up the heat, make love with your clothes on, and get
over it, you say.

Well, here's
one more indication that we have a real, honest-to-God
situation on our hands: my girl started
swallowing … just to get something warm in her belly.
Trust me, there's no way she'd be doing that, if the
situation wasn't so … well, sucky.

And just
because I don't mind that so much (she calls me Hotshot
now) doesn't mean it's not pretty friggin' cold outside, all the
same.

I guess it's
just a matter of taking the hot with the
cold.

I'll try my
best.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

PS. Don't be
telling the little lady about hot chocolate, chicken soup, or
anything else that would warm her belly up. I'm not looking to
introduce any competition.

Copyright 2013
Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Harlowe Pilgrim's books are available
atwww.cockandbullpublishing.com,Amazon, iBooks, Smashwords.com,
Books-A-Million, and most other online
booksellers.

Send an email to
win-ebook@jesusvsanta.com to enter a drawing for a FREE
ebook!